Eldritch Horror Theatre

The newborn creator, the weaver of wisdom—honestly, for a researcher who had discovered the ultimate answer, he was gradually demonstrating a mighty power worthy of those titles.

Unfortunately, in Fu Qian’s eyes, compared to The Thinker he had encountered here in Depth 2, the Lord of Intellect’s realm of thought fell far short.

It was like burning zithers and cooking cranes—he gave the most vulgar interpretation to absolutely everything.

It perfectly matched his second-rate performance back when he was hiding behind the door, not even daring to make eye contact with his colleagues.

In short, he was far too mediocre.

If that weren’t the case, how could he have made such a vulgar assumption—that Fu Qian was sitting here motionless just to lower his guard, waiting for the perfect moment to pull the firewood from under the cauldron and completely eliminate the current threat?

And the truth about A Fei was evidently even harder for him to grasp—

”Are you serious?”

Seeing that Fu Qian truly had little interest in the grand topics they were discussing, instead refocusing his attention on the two fighting crickets, the Lord of Intellect wore a look of utter disbelief.

”Honestly, I don’t see any chance of him winning. Their respective brands of madness are entirely different.”That much was true.

Although their ultimate conclusions differed, it didn’t stop Fu Qian from agreeing with that analysis.

The madness of the real A Fei and the fake A Fei was, of course, different.

His own Toolman A Fei was the product of constant accumulation, ultimately pushed to the absolute limit.

Right now, his shattered mind resembled a garbage dump struck by a typhoon—chaotic beyond measure. Only by relying on his sword could he even barely participate in this struggle.

As for his opponent, calling him mad wouldn’t be wrong, either. He displayed a complete disregard for his own safety, focused entirely on slaughtering his foe.

But as mentioned before, that brand of madness felt more like a reflection of inner demons and karmic sin. It lacked a certain mortal touch. In simpler terms, it was the legendary ”calm madness.”

Not to mention the Face of the Sword Saint that had been revealed earlier.

Fu Qian naturally didn’t think it was pure coincidence. He was far more inclined to believe it was the direct manifestation of ”sword arts reaching the divine.”

As the absolute correctness on the sword path, it had even resonated with the very pinnacle.

Such a figure would undoubtedly leave no openings for A Fei to exploit.

To the extent that, even with an equal Rank, all that seemed to await the latter was a slow death—though, in truth, it wasn’t even that slow anymore.

Howl—

Amid another mournful cry, he suffered more than just another gash to his body.

His only hand capable of swinging a sword was cleanly severed, crashing heavily to the ground along with the Greatsword.

The most direct consequence was that his body suddenly blurred at that exact moment.

In contrast, his opponent’s figure grew distinctly clear, and Fu Qian once again saw the Face of the Sword Saint.

Fu Qian was absolutely certain the angle was fine this time; he was seeing it squarely from his own perspective.

Just as he had theorized, as the ”absolutely correct one” gained the upper hand, he was gradually becoming real, while the original A Fei was slowly fading into a Shadow.

Furthermore, as Toolman A Fei collapsed with a severed arm, he lost his connection to the Greatsword that anchored his heart and soul, leaving him completely hollow and utterly lost.

Facing such an opponent, Sword Saint Ah Fei mirrored the behavior of that other King of the Abandoned Prison. He merely stared quietly, in no rush to deliver the killing blow.

If you don’t kill, then I won’t kill. This reaction only further confirmed the theory that he was a reflection of inner demons, rather than a puppet commanded by the Lord of Intellect.

Of course, the Lord of Intellect was clearly in no hurry either. For one thing, the true had been separated from the false; the error had been ”corrected.”

For another, they were still maintaining a fragile balance. The slightest ripple could shatter it.

Judging by the twisted expression on the fallen toolman’s face, even in this state, his madness was far from subsiding—

Wait a minute. Why could that twisted expression still be ”seen”?

...

The situation seemed to contradict his previous conclusion.

Fu Qian noted that it was one thing for Toolman A Fei to fade into a Shadow while Sword Saint Ah Fei achieved Transformation, but it was another entirely that he could still clearly observe the toolman’s madness.

Seeing both of them at the same time? It was practically a groundbreaking discovery—well, perhaps not that exaggerated. Transcendent Perception.

That was it. Not being able to see him with physical eyes was one thing; Toolman A Fei’s reactions were being picked up through perception.

Though that raised an even more startling question: had his Transcendent Perception been restored?

He obviously hadn’t used the Burial Scroll, so why—because the balance between himself and the True King of the Abandoned Prison was also shattering.

Yes. Not only did he instantly reach that conclusion, but in that very moment, Fu Qian even managed to guess the rough reason why.

As a blasphemous anomaly within the transcendent spectrum, he was the Mechanical King of the Abandoned Prison—a being naturally devoid of Transcendent Perception.

So, wouldn’t the absolutely correct True King of the Abandoned Prison naturally seek to correct this defect?

However, this change meant he was being subjected to a much heavier influence. Their interaction was intensifying, which was precisely how he was now able to share a Deity Level Transcendent Perception.

The Lord of Intellect was right. Certain things were simply incapable of peaceful coexistence, and that critical breaking point was fast approaching.

This held true even though the shadow sitting not too far away remained completely silent.

Moreover, with the aid of that sliver of Transcendent Perception, he could now make out far more details on ”Its” body.

He had to admit, the figure was far more inhuman.

Compared to Sword Saint Ah Fei, who had merely swapped out his face, this entity didn’t have anything resembling a face at all.

And looking further down, it lacked any other distinct body parts as well.

The entire figure sitting there resembled a hollowed-out mummy with a rough exterior, freshly gutted of its insides.

Yet, precisely in this form, it perfectly embodied what it meant to be the King of the Abandoned Prison—radiating a bizarre, eerie sublimity.

Of course, now was hardly the time to admire it—Howl!

Amid another maddened howl, Toolman A Fei—who appeared to have completely lost every shred of his sanity—struggled to force himself back to his feet.

Even though he looked completely incapable of posing any further threat, that wasn’t the point.

With that single movement, the fleeting peace between him and Sword Saint Ah Fei shattered. In the next instant, the latter leaped high into the air to launch an attack, perfectly mirroring the scene from the very beginning when he had descended from the sky to execute the Lord of Intellect.

Logically, there was no need for such a theatrical move. Perhaps this was another form of the sin force rebound he had thought of earlier?

By all accounts, this was A Fei’s final stand. Fu Qian didn’t let the moment go to waste; he raced against the clock to summarize his findings, still showing absolutely no intention of intervening.

”You—”

But the Lord of Intellect’s cry of disbelief came to an abrupt halt after just a single word.

Clang—

Amid another crisp clash of metal, A Fei’s broken, gruesome body suddenly shifted into a stance that radiated an astonishingly imposing aura.

Not only had he regained a proper human stance, but he also thrust his severed arm diagonally upward. It was as if he were hoisting an invisible Longsword in the empty space, casually parrying the execution descending from the sky.